


Such selfish prayers

by Anonymous



Series: Kinktober 2019 [5]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alley Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Come Eating, Explicit Sexual Content, Foot Fetish, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Obscurial Credence Barebone, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, POV Credence, Religious Guilt, Shotgunning, day 5 is wild guys, foot worship, irreverence and desecration of the bible probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-12-01 21:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20905619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The next time Credence goes to see Mister Graves, his dreams and the activities of the night before are fresh on his mind, on his hazy, sleep deprived mind.





	Such selfish prayers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writewrongs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writewrongs/gifts).
  * Inspired by [this is his body, this is his love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8651698) by [writewrongs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writewrongs/pseuds/writewrongs). 

> this is FULLY AND DIRECTLY a spiritual sequel to the tagged fic, aka 'this is his body, this is his love' by writewrongs who's work i adore!   
they wrote the fIRST EVER a/b/o that i read, and it was in this fandom! i strive to be that sexy and filthy every time i write it.  
<3

He walks into the alleyway with the memory of his previous nights self abuse fresh on his mind, finding Mister Graves there, already waiting for him, smoking what appears to be a fancy cigar. Something far too expensive to waste. 

Credence feels heat rising in his cheeks. “Mister Graves, forgive me for disturbing you, but I didn’t wish to be late.”

The man glances over to him, and something that seems closer to amusement than annoyance curves his mouth, lips smirking, “It’s quite alright, Credence. I don’t mind the company. How are you faring today, my boy?” He shudders.

Those two words seem to have a direct line to his cock. It’s shameful, swelling in his pants, rising up to press against Credence’s underwear, and he swallows thickly, trying desperately not to think about how Mister Graves’ own cock looks. “Oh, goodness, thank you for inquiring about my health, Mister Graves. I am quite well, thank you.” Credence finishes. 

The man glances over to him, eyes narrowing, as if he doesn’t believe him. “Come here. Let me look at you.”

A cloud of smoke chases his words, and Credence fights the urge to breathe it in, if only to have  _ some part _ of the man in his body, his soul, his very being. There’s nothing more that he craves than to be claimed, to be  _ had _ by Mister Graves.

This will have to do. He’s not worthy of the man’s cock, not in his mouth, over his tongue, on his face, nor up his hole.

Credence shivers. “S-s-s-ir?” he stutter-asks, daring to question Mister Graves. The man hums to himself, putting a finger beneath his chin, urging him to meet his gaze. Though he is already a handful of inches taller than Mister Graves, Credence shrinks himself, bowing his shoulders inward to appear shorter, hunches down, keeping his knees bent a little.

“You seem unwell, you’re pale, and sweating. Have you been eating alright? That bitch of a mother treating you poorly? She didn't beat your hands this time… what about your back?” 

Mister Graves surmises, and Credence flushes harder, droplets of perspiration rolling down the back of his neck, the side of his cheeks, he trembles under the man’s touch. “Oh god, sir, no, she is a wonderful,  _ generous _ guardian, I dare not speak ill of her-”

The man shushes him, firmly, but gentle, by shifting his thumb over to press onto Credence’s bottom lip, halting his words. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know she’s a horrible nomaj. Not worthy to even lick your feet, your shoes.”

Credence’s eyes widen in horror, wary of speaking badly of Mary Lou, even if Mister Graves seems to  _ enjoy _ doing so, God is still watching him. 

“Sir! Mister Graves, I cannot agree. That is not true. She is very kind to me, providing a roof over my head, hot meals daily, as well as bathing water-” He breaks off again, thinking of the exact type of need he had for hot water last night, mentally reliving the horrifyingly long minutes it took to rinse his shame out of his bed clothes to his great regret, after his self abuse, while thinking of the man, of Mister Graves, and  _ only _ Mister Graves. The man moves closer to him, as if planning it, cleverly, he maneuvers Credence up against the alleyway wall, exhaling slowly, so that a fog of smoke perfectly streams into his face. He would much prefer the man put something  _ else _ on his face, with something far more potent, and heavy.

“Do you want some, my boy? I will share. This is a fine cigar, hardly good for a singular use.” Mister Graves murmurs. 

His voice is low, secretive, as if he’s telling something to Credence that requires the utmost secrecy. 

“Oh god,  _ please _ .” He finds himself breathing, overwhelmed and terrified all at once. Credence is sure his erection is hard enough to cut diamonds, might tear itself out of his pants, only to end in a spectacularly pathetic dribble of white onto the dirty alley floor. But it would be in front of the man, which is far worse to dirtying his underwear by finishing inside them. 

Mister Graves leans in so closely that his eyes cross trying to keep focus on the man’s mouth, as his lips press against Credence’s. “Open your pretty mouth, my boy.” He hears, before obeying. 

Credence breathes in deeply, as Mister Graves exhales, but… it’s not quite right, and he doesn’t think he has done it correctly, not gotten a lungful of expensive smoke. He coughs, all but choking on the gifted breath of life, and Mister Graves laughs at him, but smiles, softening the blow. A hand cradles his cheek, and Credence’s cock twitches in his pants, blurting wetness against the fabric of his underthings, until he’s all but soaked the front with precum, sticky fluid.

“Sweet boy, you need to exhale first, empty your virgin lungs, before kissing me.” Mister Graves says, impossibly patient.

Credence does this, breathing out a shuddering breath, feeling everything tingle, from his fingertips, to his toes, and his eyelashes flutter, as the man takes a long drag on the cigar again, pressing close, so that their mouths meet in a semblance of a kiss. Something in his chest clenches, and then he does it! 

Credence breathes in hard, sucking in every ounce of smoke that Mister Graves gives him, his cock aching, throbbing in his pants while his lips are all but devoured by the man. 

He feels a hint of teeth, which makes him startle, and then Mister Graves backs away, gazing at him with dark eyes, brown swallowed by black. Credence doesn’t know what it means, but he suspects the devil’s influence on his wicked soul.

“Dear me, you are so fucking  _ tempting _ to a sad old maj. Credence, I wonder, would you allow me an indulgence?” 

The man asks, and Credence whimpers, exhaling the smoke he’d breathed from Mister Graves’ lips. “Anything sir.”

"Credence, would you do me the favor... of being degraded?" His lower lip wobbles. 

The man called him a virgin,  _ tempting. _ Then he blurts out, entirely unaware of what he’s asking for, "Please... Mister Graves... use me." 

The man groans. “Oh, to steal a curse from the darkest depths of your soul, Credence, Jesus Christ. Get on your knees.”

Credence’s cock actually pulses  _ once _ , in his pants, a spurt of release, and he whines softly. “Oh god… yes sir.” 

He closes his eyes, as if in worship, and drops to the ground slowly, wary of hurting his knees, of not being able to walk. Credence lands on the alleyway ground, the harsh bricks biting into his legs, and he catches himself with his hands on Mister Graves’ thighs, gazing up at him with worshipful eyes. “What must I do?” He asks. 

The man licks his lips, and puts a hand to Credence’s chin. 

“Open your mouth, my boy, and take your communion, by kneeling at my alter.” 

Mister Graves reaches down with his free hand, twirling his fingers, undoing the layers of his coat and pants and underthings, freeing his  _ massive cock, _ causing Credence’s jaw to drop open as he witnesses it. 

The length and girth are more than he ever dreamed of, not to mention the fact the man is clearly uncut, as the pink shiny tip peeks out from underneath a hood of flesh colored skin that he himself does not possess. 

“Oh my god.” Credence says.

He’s never cursed like that in his life. 

Mister Graves moans under his breath, and pushes him forward, fingers thrusting into the ugliness of his bowl cut, making it so that his nose presses against the side of the man’s shaft, forcing him to breathe in his scent, and Credence makes a noise in response, like a dying animal. That is what he has become, a creature, a  _ slave _ to his lust and desires. 

Mister Graves asks him for a gift he cannot help but give, and Credence opens his mouth, taking the crown of the man’s cock into his mouth, between his lips, onto his tongue, tasting more delicious than any wafer given from the church could. Credence whimpers against him, opening his mouth wider, letting Mister Graves push  _ in _ , just like he has dreamed, as he wants during the darkest of nights, in his deepest desires. His cock is making a large wet spot in his pants now, as he closes his eyes, letting Mister Graves move in further,  _ fucking _ into his mouth, and Credence moans now, getting more and more involved.

“Oh mercy, you beautiful darling creature, you’re being so good for me. Just like that Credence, a little more, a little longer.” The man tells him, soothing him, guiding Credence, using his hand like he’s steering a cart, and he swallows, gulping hard, trying to keep his mouth tight, like he knows it feels good, he’s imagined it too. 

Mister Graves’ begins to move his hips, thrusting shallowly into his mouth, over and over, as Credence grips the man’s legs harder until his knuckles turn white. “I’m close, I’m going to come, oh my boy-” He hears, and then Mister Graves curses, a string of words he doesn’t know at all, but Credence knows, it means he’s climaxing, reaching that well of bliss. He swallows, again and again, tasting warm slick, unfamiliar salty bitterness, far harsher than his own, when he’s snuck a taste of it. Credence keeps himself close, nose brushing into the dark cloud of Mister Graves’ pubic hair, until he feels the hand in his hair softening, gentle, petting over his forehead, caressing down the side of his cheek, cupping his jaw. “Enough.” Mister Graves says, barely above a whisper. Credence obeys immediately, blinking away tears, looking up at the man. 

His jaw aches, horribly so, and he swallows thickly around the strange taste on his tongue, in the back of his throat.

“Was that good? Did I degrade myself for you?” Mister Graves gazes down at him, with what seems like fire in his eyes.

“Credence, my boy, you were _ wonderful _ . Don’t move.” Credence freezes, holding still, and the man’s hand doesn’t leave his face. There’s a sudden rush, a cold sensation somewhere around his middle, and the harsh ground vanishes beneath him. Credence blinks, and then the alleyway is gone. Mister Graves is still looming over him, while Credence kneels. His lungs seem to relax, and he can breathe properly again, even after the shared smoke. But now they are inside of an apartment, a brownstone, judging by the bricks on the walls. He gulps. This is  _ Magic _ .

“My home, Credence. We’re somewhere safe.” Mister Graves says quietly. 

“Oh. I see.” Credence says. 

“Do you, sweet boy? I brought you here for a reason. Lay back.” The man tells him, and he obeys, again. As if there is anything Mister Graves would tell him he would not do. 

Credence collapses onto the plush softness of an expensive rug, his legs opening obscenely.

Mister Graves stands over him for a few seconds, before raising his hand, and dragging it down Credence’s body, in midair. He shivers, and then gasps. He’s  _ naked _ . Credence is naked in front of Mister Graves. His cock betrays him. 

It’s hard, drooling wet stick strands of his arousal onto his belly, which quivers as he breathes, or tries to. 

_ “Sir!” _ Credence can only sob, shocked and terrified, but Mister Graves comes to him on the floor now, lowering his body down until he’s right on top of him, and smiling. 

"Relax, I’m going to show you how much I appreciate your utter cooperation.” the man says.

Credence’s back arches, as Mister Graves’ lips press to his, and he moans into the kiss. 

The man tastes like smoke, honeyed ash, but the kiss ends far too soon, as Mister Graves’ lips move down from Credence’s mouth to his neck, then his nipples, biting and sucking  _ hard _ . He doesn’t stop there. Both of the man’s hands frame Credence’s waist, gripping hard, as if trying to leave bruises, dragging from the sides of his sharp hip bones on to his thighs, then lower, cupping his ass, making him shudder. “Mister Graves! Sir, please!” Credence whimpers. 

The man continues on, his hands cradling and caressing, groping then massaging over his legs, weighing his flesh, pound for pound. All the way until he’s got both of Credence’s feet in hand. “Please… What?” 

Mister Graves teases him, still fully dressed, and manipulates his body so that Credence’s ankles graze up against the man’s lips, and he boldly licks over the arch of his foot, one, then the other. Rubs his cheeks, rough with his five o’clock shadow against the side of Credence's foot, turning his head to mouth from the sole up to his toes. 

When Mister Graves'  _ tongue _ slips out, dipping between each, Credence feels this touch on his cock, as vivid as anything. The way the man looks at him now, with eyes dark as pitch, Credence knows somehow this is as pleasurable for him as it is for Mister Graves. “I need, something more, please, I'll do  _ anything _ .” The man smirks. “Where?” 

Credence knows the man is trying to make him beg, considering how he ignores the obvious, his erection that bows reddish purple over his stomach, the naked sign of his arousal. “My… my shame.” He chokes out, and Mister Graves’ confident expression falters for a moment, before the man ducks his head, and nuzzles his stubble rough chin and soft lips onto Credence’s cock. “Oh  _ god _ .” He cries out, before Mister Graves then tilts his head, opening his mouth to boldly lick at the underside of his cockhead, curling it, pressing into his slit, making Credence’s vision go white. “Oh my god.” 

He comes like that, shuddering and gasping apart, spilling endless ropes of white onto his belly, up to his ribcage. 

But Mister Graves doesn't stop, nor does he answer him, instead taking the entirety of his cock into his mouth, sucking hard and moving his tongue fast along the shaft, driving Credence closer and closer to another impossible orgasm, until he cannot hope to resist. 

The man’s hands cease their touches to his feet and promptly grip his body elsewhere, one on his cock, stroking what his mouth will not accommodate, the other between Credence’s legs, toying with his cleft, pressing two fingertips against his forbidden spot. They barely penetrate him, but somehow Credence feels as if he's being set ablaze. 

“Oh god, oh  _ jesus _ .” He sobs, as Mister Graves deepthroats him, and urges his legs up, feet crossing behind the man’s shoulders, toes curling against the rough fabric of his coat collar. 

Credence shouts, coming in a rush a sudden and second time, spilling into Mister Graves’ mouth, down his throat, as the man reacts by swallowing hastily, gulping down every single drop of his release.

His hands grip hard on everything he can reach, one hand fisting in Mister Graves’ perfectly styled hair, the other all but ripping up the carpet, and Credence rides out his aftershocks against the man’s face. 

He pulls off and lets Credence’s spit slick cock slide out of his mouth, then Mister Graves licks up any possible mess he missed from before, as it cools sticky white on his skin. The man finishes by tonguing into his navel. 

"Was that good for you, sweet boy?” the man asks, his voice as rough as the brick walls of the alleyway. “Yes sir.” Credence breathes. He feels tears that he doesn't remember crying on his cheeks, his eyes still pressing tightly shut. Credence can only pray this isn't all a delicious dream. He feels Mister Graves smirking into the side of his naked hip.

"Stay with me, Credence. Be mine.” He demands.

“But I don’t know who the child is, or where they are.” He says, almost pleading against his dearest life’s wish. 

Mister Graves chuckles, and then kisses a damp trail back up to Credence’s mouth. “Why, darling, it’s  _ you _ .”

He startles, and then opens his eyes, finding the man looking down at him, something seemingly like awe in his gaze.

“What?” Credence splutters.

Then he looks down. Mister Graves is naked too. Apparently quite eager to be touched too. 

“I didn’t do a fucking thing baby, this was all you.”

He can only laugh and cry at the same time, his magic manifested what he wants, what he  _ craves _ . 

“Take me.” Credence demands. 

Mister Graves hums, 

“Oh my boy, there is so much more to it. I'll teach you. Now, show me those white eyes again, won’t you?” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Day 5:
> 
> **Feet | ** <strike>Sadism/Masochism | Feederism</strike> ** | Shotgunning**   



End file.
